


Long Shot

by EnvelopesYou



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: F/M, Murder, Revenge, Torture, Violence, attempted suicide, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnvelopesYou/pseuds/EnvelopesYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost sixteen years ago the mission got blown. A young agent spent the next five years of her life being tortured. The only thing that kept her alive was the singular promise to find the man who betrayed her, no matter what she keeps on being told, and put him down. But when he finally comes knocking.... </p>
<p>\\\\Spy AU with Danny! It's happening! Strap in it's going to be one hell of a ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The dossier had been sitting in front of her for a full ten minutes. This wouldn’t be long enough to go over such a delicate mission- and certainly not enough time for one so early in her career, but they didn’t have a lot of time. A misstep was asking for a breach of national security. No, not even that. The trust of the community. Because they were going under the hands of those they were allied with. For good reason, of course, none of which mattered to her. Or it shouldn’t have. That wasn’t her business. As an agent all she had to do was secure the mission and get out without causing a scene. Or any notice at all.

To get caught here would not only risk the agency’s credence, it would cost her her very life, no doubt. If she got caught and dragged way to who knew where, they weren’t coming to get her. They’d disavow her. Call her a rogue and let her die in jail. To save their own face. But that was the name of the game. She had already signed her life away. And while she was young, she knew she could do it. As long as she had her partner with her. A little more experienced and could hold her hand and make sure things went smoothly.

Or at least that’s what she’d thought. But they’d pulled him. “We need Agent 210 elsewhere.” Where he was, at the current moment, and she wasn’t allowed to know. Not enough clearance for that mission, either. “We can’t wait on him. You’re dropping into Marrakech on your own.”

“I need him.” Her palms laid flat out on the table. Without him... could she even manage? Sure. Sure she could- but... she needed cover. “I can’t go in blind! I need eyes on the ground.” And her back, preferably.

“Do not raise your voice to me 683.” The director was calm and cold. Putting the fear of god- or much worse, for that matter, into her with just a few quick words. “We have an agent deployed there already. You will meet up with him during the delegation.” This was a soft code word. There wasn’t actually any delegation. Just one bullet for one head.

A noise of frightened disgust left her. “I can’t trust someone I don’t know!” Maybe she was too young. Too inexperienced. Suddenly she was anxious.

“We trust him. You just have to do your job.” The worst part was she had no choice. If she said no to this mission she might as well have gotten on her knees and asked for a gun to her head. Her rights were gone. They’d been gone a long time. “Wheels are up in ten. Get to the roof.” With that the man stood and walked to the door. “Don’t disappoint me.” This was a threat. For very good reason. And with it he was gone.

She snapped up the folder and stomped her way up to the helipad. This was a bad idea. Could she really do this? Could she trust an agent she didn’t know? No! Of course not! That was why partners worked together for such long periods of time. They became your second eyes, second ears, second everything. Without him... Once she strapped in she felt her hands shaking.

There was no point in reading the briefing again. Not even for finer details. She knew the guy she had to take out. She knew what time the exchange had to happen. She knew what would happen to her if she failed. That was all she needed to know. This guy who was already out in the field doing who-knew-what didn’t matter. She didn’t need him. Because she wouldn’t blow it. She couldn’t. Absolutely could not.

But her nerves hadn’t settled when she touched ground. They wouldn’t. Not as she stopped at the check-in. Not when she changed clothes to blend in. Not as she strapped her shoulder holsters on and hid her guns. Not when she put in her ear piece and was met with absolute dead silence from the agent who was supposed to be backing her- of course not then.

And not when he was late for the meet up.  
Professional, they’d said. More experienced, they’d said. Where was her partner? She needed him. Now. There was no-

“I have eyes.” The voice came in through her ear piece, a little louder than it should have. She jerked her head up and then reached her hand to the back of her skull as if trying to temper a gust of wind at her hair.

Play it cool. So. The guy was there. But she was in the middle of a crowd. Couldn’t risk doing anything stupid. But if he had visuals-

“I know. I’m sorry. I got held up.” The look of disgust was probably easy to read from wherever he was sitting. Why couldn’t he have just done this? More experienced agent that he was. Why send her out? Sure, the protocol was to always have someone at your back, but didn’t he have a partner?

The drop was happening in less than fifteen. At the end of the mouth at the south alleyway. At least that’s what the map had been ticked as. She couldn’t run.

“I’m approaching.” He had to be close enough to really help her if she got into trouble. But that was the least of her worries. Whether or not he was there to help. What did that matter if she blew it?

Stay calm. That was all she could tell herself. “I’m at your four.” She couldn’t risk looking but knowing he was that close was... sort of relieving. But still. Not enough. “Approaching.” He’d stopped somewhere, probably to keep himself off the radar and then said this again as he was coming out of the west corridor.

She saw him- not knowing who he was but... recognizing the build of a fellow agent almost immediately. Not just that- oh god. Not just that-

“Are you-“ Yes. She was in position. The alleyway rolled out in front of her. She had one shot but-

A shriek from, exactly, her four, rang out and millions more followed after it. He’d been careless. She could see his holsters through that shirt he was wearing. Someone else had started a panic. And that was all it took to get the target bolting in the opposite direction.

Experienced? No way. He was a rookie! Who dressed like that to blend in wearing a visible weapon! She took off after her mark. If she let him get away there would be hell to pay. But- chasing with an unreliable partner was a different sort of trouble. Especially when hands took her. She fired off a few rounds but it wasn’t enough. Dragged to her knees, beat over the head, and then her wrists tied around her. It had happened within mere moments.

The mission had gone so far awry.  
Slipped right out of her hands. All because of-

As she was being hefted up on the ladder of a waiting rogue helicopter, the same place her target had climbed up to, she saw him tumble out of the alleyway. The agent who was supposed to be watching out for her.

It had gone so wrong so fast and-

“TAKE THE SHOT!” There was no telling if he could hear her over the whir of the blades. The air it was kicking up.

But she saw him.  
She saw him level his gun. If he took out at least the one holding her, sure she might break a few bones- maybe even her spine. But that was nothing compared to what they were going to do to her-

“PLEASE!”  
Do something. Anything.  
He was holding his weapon- were his hands shaking? Or just her vision?  
He was aiming- and then- she watched the clench of his jaw, the narrow of his eyes. His hands lowered.

He refused. Flat out refused to do anything to help her.  
He’d blown the mission and then-

“But are you sure that’s what you saw?”

The therapist’s office came back into view. This wasn’t the first time you’d had mandatory meetings. This wasn’t the first face, either. Every time you hopped base they required you to sit down as a debrief. And then the longer you stayed the more sessions you were required to sit down for. At this point it was once a week. Because ever since that day in Marrakech sixteen years ago you’d become a liability. Or maybe it was the five years after spent in prison. No. Not even prison. A torture camp.

“That _is_ what I saw.” No one would be able to convince you that that fucking rookie agent hadn’t been holding a gun. And they’d tried. Oh how they’d tried. For years and years and years they tried to tell you it was just your brain protecting you. Keeping you safe because you’d blown the mission and there was nothing he could do to help you. He’d probably just been waylaid by other enemies and couldn’t help you.

The man sitting across from you sighed. They all knew by now. Your sheets were passed around like candy. They knew you were difficult. That you’d never accept it. No. You never would. No one was going to sit there and tell you what you saw. You know. You know he had a gun. You know he had a clear shot.

You know he ruined your life.

“We have to get through this.” In a slight warning tone. Agency therapists were different from real-world therapists. Not that you would really know. You weren’t allowed to go. Too many secrets to spill. But you had to imagine that real-world therapists didn’t subtly threaten their patients. Probably not, right? “Agent Vireo.” Another stern couple of notes.

The ones who liked to pretend they were close used your codename. Real names had been banned for a long, long time. Yours had even been blacked out once you’d been retrieved from prison. And like the little bird you were, soaring out of there and making way into her new life, they’d named you Vireo. It was as disgusting as it was insulting. But what life was there to go to after? None. All you could do was hone your skills. Make do. Take your anger out with the pull of a trigger and training a punch that could shatter bones.

You picked up your bag from the arm of the couch as you stood, settling the strap heavily over your shoulder. The almost-ever-present ear piece went back in. “I am through it. I know what I saw.” They’d never be able to convince you. No one. Not a damn one. Because you knew. It wasn’t self protection. It was just the truth.

He tapped his pen on his pad of paper. “Are you taking your medicine?”

“Every damn day.” With that you disappeared through the door and took the elevator down a few levels. The desk you had in the office was more for show than anything. Mostly because you weren’t sitting long enough in one place to have it matter. Waiting for you on top was a crisp manilla folder with the margin blacked out. At this point it was just getting silly. Were you going to show anyone? No. Was it even getting taken out of the office? No. Who cared.

You flipped it open, heaving a sigh. The chair behind you creaked. “I’ll save you the reading.” See. What did it even matter? Thresh had read it. Everyone in the office had probably read it. This agency was turning more and more into a joke the longer it lived. When you turned with your hand on your hip he continued. Hey, if he was going to make it easier on you... “You need to do something about that tail.”

“Aw.” Smiling softly. “I think he’s cute.” A baby agent with no business being in the field. Probably trying to impress someone. Eyes were often and plenty, so it didn’t matter to you if they saw you out on the street. This one couldn’t keep up regardless. Only when you let him.

“Yeah well they don’t.” Shaking his head. “Do something about it.” You just rolled your eyes.

“Put a bullet in his head. Got it. Anything else?” You flipped the folder closed, eager to get out of there.

“They’re sending you a new partner.” At the thin of your lips, the quick disappearance of your smile- “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“More like the snoop.”

He simply shrugged. “It’s not a full time gig. Just one of those ones you’re supposed to whip back into shape.” The less they put you out on missions the more they did this. Like you were a god damn babysitter.

“Save me more reading.” Because the kid’s details were in the folder but you didn’t care enough.

“He’s older. Been with the agency a while. But he’s been having trouble lately.” Oh. That was no good. ‘Having trouble’ could have meant a lot of things. But it usually meant the resolve was weakening. Some just couldn’t live with themselves anymore after a while. A damn shame, for sure. Some of the best went out that way. Most people were sure you would, too. Eventually. “Blew eight of his last missions by refusing to lethally fire.” Ah. Developed a conscience. The worst. “If you can’t settle it...” Leading off in a whine.

“Bullet in the back of the head. Got it.” Taking out the trash. Babysitter and dual garbageman. How had your life turned into such a huge shit pile? “Is he heading to the library?” Your safe space- well. Sort of. You owned it. Had for a while. But every wall had ears. That was just your life. The books were comforting. As were all the weapons you’d saved and hidden over the years. And all the stupid hidden passages. Things like that just really tickled your fancy.

“Yeah. Probably so’s your tail.” He waved in a mock salute. “Get along little doggy.”

A trail of ‘yeah’s followed you right out the door. Back into the elevator, a couple of more levels to the basement- the only actual way to get in, and out into the parking garage of a building that looked like just a regular corporate mouse trap. You waved to the security guard on watch and received only a tip of his head in return. No tail out on the street which was good. You were careful coming in and out because they already considered you a liability. They were already taking your missions away the longer time went on. No reason to get them extra crazy.

Down a couple of blocks, and about three more to the library, your tail appeared. So. He’d been waiting on the corner- had an idea of where you were. Or at least where he could catch you headed. That was fine. If you could take him into the back and be done with it you would. One less thing to worry about. One less file waiting on your desk. You kept a calm pace, acting like you hadn’t seen him and if he was as dumb as you thought, he’d buy it. Since he was keeping too-close a distance, this was more than likely.

The steps of the library came into view and soon you were jogging up them, still pretending not to notice the kid only a few feet behind you following you up. On the last step a body collided with yours, but you kept your balance, swinging back only slightly. Your eyes went up to his face. Slightly gaunt. A tall lanky thing. Long brown curly hair. A genuinely apologetic smile. Brown eyes. Stubble.

Not a thre-  
Ah.  
The pang hit your shoulder before the actual realization. “Why carry a gun if you’re not gonna use it?” So this was the idiot they’d sent. Your eyes left his, already assessed. “Come on.” Your voice had been low enough for your tail not to hear, but waiting outside on the steps for him to do something stupid was... well. Stupid.

You rolled your shoulder back to get the pain to go away. He was wearing his holders way too loose. Would be visible if not for that leather jacket. And what a tell that was. It was too hot for that. “So you are as good as they say.” Said quietly- ah. So maybe he wasn’t as useless as you thought. He obviously could tell someone was following you into the cool, dark building.

Home.  
“Or you’re as terrible as I’ve been told.” Weaving between the towering stacks, getting him to keep up. He had long legs, they should at least be put to use. “Though...” Thinking about it without actually looking at him. “You don’t look that old.” Hadn’t Thresh said old man?

“Yeah I get that a lot. Thanks.” His laugh was sweet. Too sweet for someone in this profession.

“Do you want to be re-calibrated?” Because that’s what it was. That’s all it’d ever be. Either they wanted to or they didn’t. And if the agency was forcing him it was already too late. If he’d actually asked for help it wasn’t. In either case, though, it was always too late. But if you could rewire him a little, at least he’d last a few more years.

He sighed, still following close at your side. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Yes.” Simply put. “But if you’re just trying to prolong the inevitable-“ Lulled in by just enough conversation that stupid boy had followed you right to the back.

And stupider still for not realizing you’d slowed on purpose. With a duck and a low sweep of your leg you brought him right to the floor. The not-so-old-man backed up with his hands forward. You put your foot on the back of the kid’s neck and drew your weapon from its hiding spot tucked just at the back of your belt. Your bag dropped to the ground with the quick motion. “Hey hey whoa!” Old man was talking. And he sounded startled.

“Who you working for, kid?” Your tone was dry and disinterested. “You’ve been sniffing around a long while. See anything interesting?”

You had to loosen the pressure on his neck so that he could actually do something more than just gurgle. “Fuck you you fucking pig.” Too bad he had nothing of interest to say.

“Alright well goodbye-“ With one easy squeeze the weapon fired-

But old-man had dove forward to knock your aim up towards the ceiling with a cry of fear. The action was startling enough for you to lose your grip. Firing that close to anyone not used to it provoked a high pitched whine and it was that alone that saved you from actually having to run after this kid. Though he actually managed to pick himself up while you wobbled, you quickly threw the sole of your foot to his back, sending him sprawling. Then you put your full weight on his back with your left foot in one swift crushing moment. Not enough to sever a spine, but enough to slip a disk.

Then you popped your cartridge back, expelling a fresh bullet to the floor and loading the next new one; an old habit you’d picked up in Tabriz. “Hey! Jesus christ! He’s barely sixteen!” Old-man was not here to be fixed. Couldn’t be. Or if he was he was definitely a lost cause.

“Put one in the back of his head.” You held your weapon at arm’s length, aiming, just to show him where that was in case he forgot.

“Are you out of your mind?!” There was no fixing stupid.

Without hesitating you fired off one single bullet more and ended it all. Your head rolled back once before you touched the piece hidden in your ear. “I need a clean up at the library.” There was a little crackle of feedback before someone confirmed a team coming. You stepped away, picked up your bag, and didn’t wait for the other guy to follow. Eventually his shuffling brought him forward back to your side. “Go home. Or, here’s some better advice, drop off the radar. I can’t help you.” Didn’t really matter if he ran, either. They’d find him.

“How could you just-“ How was he still startled? Hadn’t he worked for a long time? None of this made sense.

“If I called for backup they just would’ve taken him to interrogation.” This word shot a few black lines through the side of your head. You were long past episodes and break downs but there were always a few reminders. “Death was mercy.” Day in and day out of torture. Relentless torture. “You ever had a decking screw drilled into the back of your skull while you’re still conscious?”

The whirring started. High pitched and endless. You could hear it. Just before the pressure- just before the-

Your hand flew up, almost as if smacking an errant fly. Right to the spot.

“I did him a favor.” The coldness of this statement must have really unnerved him because he finally stopped walking. You just didn’t have time for this garbage. “Go home.”

Once in your actual office you dropped into your chair, leaving your bag on the side of the desk, typing a few words into the lock screen of your computer to bring up your desktop with one hand. The other slid the gun onto the tabletop. To your surprise the idiot followed you in. You pretended like he wasn’t even there, because for all intents and purposes he wasn’t. You weren’t wasting your time. And as you pulled up a report file to document the incident, he shut the door. Then stuck his hands in his pockets. “I notice you don’t really linger on faces too often.”

“What, are you giving me advice?” Scoffing at him as the words bled out of your fingertips. Enemy tail. Deceased. The guys down in the lab could pick him apart and fill in the blanks. Who he worked for. Why he was following you. None of that really mattered. “I already saw you once. You’re assessed. I don’t need to look at you again.” Ever again, for that matter. “Waste of my time.” The whole damn thing was. You popped the file into your email and then sent it on its way.

“I think you should look **again**.” There was something oddly dangerous about the way he said this. Like he was threatening you. Or goading you.

“Oh, did you find your balls? Are you gonna shoot me?” Highly unlikely.

“I think you should look again so I can actually see your face.” He could without you making eye contact with him- but maybe he wanted to see what was in your eyes. The eyes of an empty killer. Maybe it would give him the last push he needed to walk away.

So you looked again.  
He had his gun drawn. His eyes were solely on yours.

Hot flashes took you.  
He had his gun- you’d known. You’d always known. And before any of it made sense you’d snapped over the top of your desk, sending your chair flying back into the wall. His weapon was twisted out of his hands before you took a hold of his hair and kicked out the back of his knee, bringing him down. Only then did you reach back, grab your weapon, and then pressed the barrel into the side of his head.

All of this was instinctual. Not because he’d drawn on you. Not because you were scared. But because it had slid into place. That voice. You knew that voice. It had been full of static and just a little too loud sixteen years ago. He’d looked much different. And yet somehow had not aged a day. Just grew shaggier and more pathetic than you ever could have imagined. You really must have been losing your touch. You looked right at him on the steps. How had you not realized until now?

“So, is it my birthday? Are you a gift?” Had the agency finally given him up? “Do you know they blacked out all your files? Tried to even tell me you died a couple of times. But I’m not as stupid as they like to pretend.” That was why you didn’t take the pills, either. They were only there to water you down. Make you vulnerable. Less of a problem until they could actually deal with you. “What’s your name, huh? Tell me your fucking name.” Gritting your teeth, pulling hard at his hair.

“Dah-Danny... it’s Danny.” Defeated. His shoulders slumped forward, his hands up in the air, palms forward. As if the sign of surrender was really going to stop you.

Not important. His name wasn’t important. Tears stung at your eyes. “No- fucking- tell me. You had your weapon out. I know you did. Tell me- TELL ME!” Years and years and years of therapists and directors telling you that was wrong. That an agent of his experience wouldn’t have drawn without taking the shot. That he would have saved you if he had had the chance. Your brain was just making it up. Fried. Scrambled where cold steel had penetrated through the back of your skull. He mumbled out something that sounded scared and you yanked him harder. “Why didn’t you shoot?!”

Why had this bastard ruined your life?

“They told me I had to trust you and you blew the mission! Right from the get go!” He’d gotten caught in public, caused a scene, let the target get away and then- “You didn’t even try! Not even for a bystander. Or a citizen. You couldn’t even fucking save one of your own!” You bent back a little so that you could really pull his hair hard, angling his neck back so that you could look down on him. “Do you know what hell I lived through because of you?!” The tears rolled down your cheeks. “Casey died because of you!” The only man you’d ever trusted. The partner they wouldn’t let you go with.

He’d gone in to get you.  
And he hadn’t come back out.

None of this felt right. This wasn’t the big moment. This wasn’t what you’d dreamed of. What had kept you alive in prison. What kept you going when you were out. Being _rehabilitated_. Thinking of that one moment when you’d nab that son of a bitch who threw it all down the drain, and for what? Now he was just some sniveling mess on your office floor. Would killing him even be worth it? Would it satisfy the hunger? The pain? You let go of his hair with a shove forward, then rubbed the back of your hand against your cheeks. Pathetic.

You were pathetic.

When he leveled and stood, still hands up, you kept your gun aimed. In the end you were still that eighteen year old girl. Too scared and too stupid to save herself. Relying on your partners. The same one that went up into that helicopter. Scared and alone. “What, huh?” Talking through the tightness in your throat. “You’ve come to say sorry? Guilty conscience finally caught up with you?” Was that it? He was blowing missions left and right and the end of his life story couldn’t be completed until he made things right? “Oh.” No. That wasn’t quite it. “They’re expecting me to kill you.”

There was no way they’d send him to you otherwise. Maybe the agency was finally trying to do right by you. As well as let you get your hands dirty for them. That had to be it. Still using you after all this time. That’s all you’d ever be. A pawn. Do what you’re told. Go where they say. Kill when they snap their fingers. Through all of this he’d been mostly silent. Still quivering. But you had to guess that was more confrontational nerves than him actually being scared.

“Fucking say something.” Drawing a breath in after ordering him, sniffling despite your best efforts.

“Can you put the gun down, please?”

The ridiculousness- or was it the candidness? It just sucked the energy right out of you. Or maybe that was the screaming you’d been doing earlier. In response all you could do was lower your weapon and then put it back on the desk. What was the point. What was the point of any of this anymore?

Wasn’t this the reason you-  
Wasn’t it...

It was instinct that kept you the gun almost glued to your hand, even as you wilted back to sit. You stared out into the space just to the right of him. What was the point anymore? This guy- this fucking guy. You’d made so many promises to yourself. That you’d make him pay for everything. And yet.

And yet... you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it. And why? He was a waste of space. A waste of time. The agency didn’t even care enough to bring him in and kill him themselves. They just threw him at you like bait to a hungry dog and you couldn’t even do **that** right.

In one clean move you pressed the barrel of the gun to your temple.  
What was the point anymore?  
The point of any of it?

Useless.  
You should have just died in prison.

His sudden screams of panic were drowned out with the blast of the gun.  
None of it mattered anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a shame that Danny had already been labeled a washed up agent because his actual skills belied the supposed rust that had taken in around his edges. He was quick. Quicker than you gave him credit for, with just a touch more caring than you also thought he would have in him. His hand took your wrist with a strength his lithe form suggested he did not have. And with that same power he wrenched the shot already halfway in the making towards the ceiling. Then he towered over and pressed your body against the desk, keeping your weapon pinned to its surface. The ringing in your ears was shrill, more anxiety than noise over what had almost just happened- what you’d almost let come to pass. The ultimate failure.

When your vision cleared, a real joke in and of itself, you saw him. Close. Eyes peering down into yours. “Get off me.” Ground out as tight as you could manage, the only way to control yourself.

“That is _not_ what I came here for!” He seemed shaken. The reason was unfathomable.

The door at the front swung open. “Hey!” The clean up crew. If they saw-

Your arm went around his waist, fighting back the bile rising in your throat. “Oh- Zed.” Tilting to the side with the most fabricated smile you could muster. “Just a little _friendly fire_. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Z was one of your most trusted confidants in this spot. “Oh hey Ms. V. I won’t tell. Naughty naughty!” Waggling his finger at you.

“Thanks.”

If anyone got word of this it’d go straight to the director. Then he’d put you both out of your miseries himself. That wasn’t what you wanted, you were realizing. If you had any chance of settling this, you were going to do it yourself. Damn them all for sending him in the first place. But now that they had, could you really give up? Despite your massive failure, your spineless pathetic attempt at putting it all behind you- quite literally... “Get off of me.” As soon as the door was shut you tried to shove him but he would not budge.

How did someone so skinny have so much muscle? His lips set forward in what was surely a pout- even if an angry one. “Are you calm?”

“No I’m not fucking calm! Get the fuck off of me!”

And most of it had nothing to do with him. Which was shameful even to think. You’d brushed up against death many times. They’d let you get very close for five years, in fact, but none of it had ever been by your own hand. You’d circled the drain so hard just then and the one that pulled you out was the one that had put you there in the first place.

How was it that you had looked down the barrel of a gun for years on end but this was what set you to quivering? Nerves? How? You’d worn them all dull, hadn’t you? He got up off you but kept your gun. Which was fine. If you wanted to kill him you wouldn’t need that. And you still wanted to, didn’t you? Just maybe not yet. Maybe doing it so quick would mean little. Maybe that’s why you’d felt nothing.

You pushed past him with a hard shoulder to his side. “Where are you going?” Asked as he was in the process of getting his legs to move so he could follow you.

His question was met with silence. You didn’t feel like talking. Not to him. Not to anyone. You left the library and he just stayed as close as possible. Would nothing make him leave? It was just that he was contracted to you now that kept him there, you were sure. And that was the only reason he’d stopped you from putting a bullet in your brain. Too messy. Too much paperwork- and perhaps he was living with the guilt of what he’d done to you years ago. That was fine. Let him live on it longer.

The place you were headed to wasn’t far away and once you got inside the owner looked up. “You okay, Viri?” Eying Danny warily. “Need something?”

“The back. Please.” That was all you had to say before he was shifting staff and occupants around so that you could occupy the back half of the diner all to yourself. Sitting down, crushing yourself into the corner of the booth, was a mistake, though. “Tea, please.” Asked as he came over and the request sent him off again. Not for too long.

Danny dropped into the booth across the table and set his hands on its top. “You wanna talk?” No. No you didn’t. And what was there to talk about besides?

When the owner set the teacup down, already made just the way you liked it, you nodded once to him in silent thanks and he left. Your hands came around the mug shaking and it finally set in. You wished that idiot wasn’t sitting so close. Wished he wasn’t looking at you. Felt the wash of shame still reddening your face, made worse by the tightening in your throat. You wanted to cry.

How childish.

But you couldn’t. Not with him there. At least you tried not to. But you were weaker than you ever thought. He brought that with him. This was not how you imagined things would go. All you’d ever wanted since getting out of prison, feeling fresh air and warm sun- you’d just wanted him dead. No, not even that. You’d wanted to take him down to his knees- which to your credit, you’d managed. You wanted to make him pay. Make him tell you why he’d ruined your life.

Instead you’d screamed at him, he’d answered so very little, and then the realization of what a failure you were prompted you to try the one thing you promised yourself you’d never do. And the cherry on that shit sundae was that he was the one who’d stopped you.

“...is that your name? Viri? I heard-...the other guy call you Ms. V...” He was trying to make conversation, hands cupping together, thumbs moving over one another slowly. Awkwardly.

The tears rolled down your cheeks and you swiped your hand to try and clear them up. “Vireo. It’s my code name. Idiot.” What sort of agent was he that he even needed to ask something as stupid as that? “Only morons give out their real name.”

Danny, he’d said. His name was Danny. More likely Daniel but he’d apparently been feeling mighty friendly with a gun pressed into the back of his skull. There was no way this was a code name, but it meant nothing regardless. What could you do with a name like Danny? Absolutely nothing.

“Or people with a death wish...” Breathing out slowly, head cradling forward before he ran his hands back through that shaggy hair of his.

“Is that what you’re waiting for?” Did he want you to kill him? More of that guilty conscience?

“I feel... Hah-...” The lead off was a breathy self depreciating laugh before he looked back up. This time you had the strength, finally, to look him in his eyes. Even if yours were still leaking tears. “That’s probably an inevitability.” He laid his palms flat on the table. “I’m actually sorta surprised you didn’t do it back in that office.”

“Yeah. Me too.” You should have. You’d been waiting so long. Planning. But not for that. Your dreams had you tracking him down. Making him beg. He’d sort of just shown up. It wasn’t right.

“...but I’m glad you didn’t.” There was hope in this statement, small as it was- but the warmth was easy to read.

At least you thought so. “You’ll get yours eventually.” By your hand. This was a promise.

“You’ve had a couple of chances now.” Was he trying to poke the caged tiger? Reminding you of how much you hadn’t done? “I think-“

“Don’t fucking tell me that you think oh- if I was gonna do it I’d have done it- that’s not how this works.” Your tone had drawn tautly and you were watching him with a hard stare.

He cleared his throat, sitting back a little straighter. “Tell me how it works.” Like he was dying to know.

But you didn’t know. Hadn’t had enough time where you weren’t in shock or just crumbling out of it. You needed to make a plan. “I’m going to kill you.” You were. That was just the end of it. He didn’t even flinch when you said it- good. So he was prepared. At least he wasn’t that stupid. “Until that time comes you’re contracted to me. If you leave, the agency will kill you instead.” This was a reshape job. Until you decided what you wanted to do with him, his life was yours to dictate. “And we both know I can’t fucking trust you so this is all just biding time until I decide yours is over with.”

He wasn’t a real partner. That was what they called him but that’s not what he was. Not even then. Especially not back then. You weren’t going to take any missions with him as your detail. That was asking for problems.

The bastard actually smiled. “Can’t I change your mind?” Was he trying to be charming? This didn’t really register for you. All it did was make you angrier.

“Is this some sort of game to you?” Asked as your features scrunched into disgust. How dare he be this nonchalant? “Was me getting taken away a game to you?” His hands went up and he started a soft chorus of ‘no-no-no’ but that didn’t stop you. “Was blowing the mission a fucking game? Me being tortured for years a game? You thought you’d just blow back in for fucking fun? Is that it?” It was so much easier to be angrier than sad. You preferred it, in fact.

Anger kept you sharp. Sadness wore you down.

He took a breath in after you decided you were finished. “Look- ...I- ... I don’t know what’s the right thing here. Obviously you hate me- and you have every right. I’m not trying to deny you that.” His hand went to the side of his head and he leaned on his elbow. “I don’t even think I’m trying to deny you the bullet you want in my head.” He said this dejectedly, like he was ready to give up- so he’d come to the one person that had every right to end it for him. “I just think- ....” His eyes went up and you shared a glance. “I just really think that...”

You decided you didn’t care what he thought. “Save it.” When you cut him off he frowned and his eyes dropped away from yours. “Everything I’ve become is yours to take credit for. So I’ll let you stick around a little longer and witness the monster you cooked up when you decided I wasn’t worth it.” Trying to really drive the wedge in. You kept on trying because the visible reaction out of him was too tantalizing not to. Guilt. Flinching.

At least he felt something about it.

“Even if I told you why I didn’t fire would that really make you feel better?” Asked so suddenly, so angrily. He had no right whatsoever- but the truth of the statement, that he understood- your eyes went across the room. No. It wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t make a difference. He’d done what he’d done. And that was why you’d yelled at him without giving him a chance to speak. None of it mattered.

You were so focused on not looking at him. Not proving how right he was- that the brush of his fingers trying to alleviate you of the tears that were absolutely pouring out of your eyes startled you. He had no right. Instincts took over, and you were glad that they did. When your head jerked back, you twisted his wrist down, reached forward, grabbed his hair, and pushed his face into the tabletop. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me.”

How dare he? What had he even been trying to do?

“Agh- alright alright! I’m sorry!”

He had to have no idea what those two words actually meant. None at all. Because you didn’t believe him. Or maybe it was that he just couldn’t have ever been sorry enough. Not for everything he’d caused. Him being there wasn’t even on the path to making it all right. You let him go but not before one hard shove to make your point, then you sat back.

There was a twist of his wrist, probably trying to assess the damage, then his hand went back into his hair. “You’re a real fan of the pulling thing.”

“It’s a serious disadvantage.” You just shook your head. “You’re the same rookie I remember.” Useless. Totally and completely useless and on top of it all had no idea what he was doing. It was like he was never even trained at all.

“Wish I could say the same.”

The severity of this statement- no- maybe it was the sadness- or all the things it brought back-

The tears returned. There was no stopping them. Not even in front of him. So the two of you sat there. Him frowning from his corner of the booth, you with your hand over your eyes as if that would hide what you were doing. Weakness.  
All the planning, all the ill wish for revenge, you’d overlooked how easy it would be for him to take it all away from you. Just by making you remember what it was like to be young and scared and just at the fringe of having that life destroyed. He’d always be your weakness.

But one day soon you’d put an end to that. You just had to have the strength to decide when.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join the envelopesyou tumblr for fun junk!


	3. Chapter 3

“You seem tired, 683.”

The doctors never called anyone by real names. Not even code names. Just numbers. Everyone was always just numbers to them. Less attachment. Give them whatever drugs they needed, set whatever bones were broken, sew up whatever was ripped open- send them on their way. The physicians weren’t the therapists, after all. They had no need to pretend like they cared.

“I can’t imagine why.” The response was scathing as it left your mouth. He had your file. He knew why. Any attempt to play a game with you was not going to go over well. You’d slept very poorly. Today was the first day of ‘training’. You had to write your pre and post assessment. You hadn’t gotten around to even thinking about how you wanted to put into words how unfit an agent Danny was.

Mostly because that was a hard line to walk. If you went overboard they’d just take him away from you. Couldn’t have that. You needed to keep him around until the mental clouds went away so you could think properly about how to dispose of him. How to make him pay. Until then... you couldn’t risk losing him.

The doctor tapped his pen on his pad. “If you don’t take care of yourself you wont be able to go out in the field.” Only the best went out. Maybe that’s why you hadn’t in a while. Maybe you hadn’t been the best in a very long time.

That was fine. All of that was coming to a close very soon. You were sure. “I have an assignment here. So.” Not important. Danny wasn’t a field mission. He was a risk assessment. A recalibration.

“You have a partner. If they need someone to go out you could still go.” Staring at you even though you weren’t looking at him. Just the bland white wall to his left. “If you’re up to it, that is.” If he gave you a fail your paperwork would change. Maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Then again, if he did that.. they might pull Danny. Damn it. It was all you could think about. How you’d gotten this one opportunity and you couldn’t blow it.

Not like he had.  
“I’m fine.” You put your eyes on his to double down. “Just need some coffee.”

He seemed unimpressed but eventually he scribbled something down and waved his hand. “I’ll see you next month.” Unless you got hurt on duty, anyway. There was never a guarantee that you were safe at any point in time. But that’s why they had the physicians. Patch you up, put you back to work.

As quick as you could you pushed yourself off the table and left. Danny was waiting for you, of course. He’d been waiting outside your apartment building, too. Stuck to you like fucking glue. Funny how you’d spent so much of your time trying to get your hands around his throat and now you couldn’t make him go away. He looked drawn out and just as tired as you felt. Who knew why. Who cared, too.

At least he was smart enough not to talk. He just kept shuffling on beside you as you took down the sidewalk and into your cafe. The owner looked up, nodded once and you were back in the corner of the booth. Danny sitting opposite you. Just like last night. You opened your bag, pulling out your notebook and clicked your pencil.

“What’ll you have this morning, Viri?” Asked quietly. Kindly.

“Coffee, please. And some toast.” You didn’t think you could handle much more than that. Your stomach already felt unsettled. Probably just because of the guy sitting next to you. You’d have to get over it eventually. How else could you put an end to this if you couldn’t?

The owner eyed Danny. “....and you?” A lot harder asked and despite yourself you smiled.

“Uh. Same. I guess.” Stilted as he laid his hands on the table, as if showing he had nothing to hide. Good. Good boy. Not as dumb as he pretended to be. He could at least read the situation.

The man walked away and you set your pencil down to the page.

**_Day One._ **   
**_Agent_ **

Looking up, you watched him for a few seconds. He was looking out the window. The shades were mostly shut, but through them the people outside walked along the sidewalk at a slow pace. “What’s your number?” You’d never thought to ask him before.

“407.” His voice was weak but quick. No one ever forgot their numbers.

**_Agent 407 failed first check. Could not eliminate a threat. Lots of work to make up. Will have to undo a lot of mental instability and build from the ground up. No projected date of completion._ **

That would be sufficient enough. A good start. As long as you said you were ready to put in the time, they’d let you keep him. If you made it seem like you could fix him, they wouldn’t take him away. You closed your notebook and slid it to the side of the table and took a moment to just watch him.

He was thin- but you’d already learned that he hid his strength well. Even through it. That was good detail work, no doubt. He looked gaunt. Like a stick. His face, especially- though he did have a strong jawline. Covered in stubble. A little graying around the corners of his chin. It was interesting it was taking his face and not that ridiculous hair of his, though maybe he dyed it. Who knew. It was dark. And thick. A dye job to cover stress would take a long while. Probably not even worth it.

“Where are you staying?” Wherever it was it had been close enough to your place to have him up before you were out. What were the hotels in the area? If he just got in it was unlikely he’d been assigned housing-

“Staying?”

Oh jesus christ. Your eye roll was hard and inescapable. “So where did you stay last night, then?” He didn’t even have a spot yet? Just when you thought he couldn’t get any worse. There he was. Proving you wrong. Time and time again. Maybe you should just start to expect it.

“I just-“ His eyes finally came to yours. Not the color you remembered, from what you could so high in the sky. Brown, but light. At least that was what your memory recalled. Scared and then defiant as he watched you disappear. Now they were dark and stormy. A little muddled around the edges. He was tired.

Weren’t you all?

“Walked.” He finished his thought as you were just getting out of your own. That was fine. So he’d stayed up all night and got acquainted with the city. He might have been a failure but he could at least protect himself, probably. He hadn’t died, anyway. So it didn’t matter.

Toast and coffee came to the table and you waved a small thanks before lifting the cup to your lips. The first sip was always the hottest. Always the best. Stung just enough to wake you up. Then it went back down onto the saucer. “I’ll put in a request form for you.” Since clearly he couldn’t do it himself.

“Where will they put me?” He crunched into his toast after asking.

“Probably same building as me.” You’d make sure, in fact. Couldn’t have him going too far.

His eyes dropped to his coffee and you felt- something. You weren’t too in touch with your emotions these days to know what it was exactly. Pity. Probably. Whatever part of you that could feel that, anyway. He just looked so tired. “Before it comes to a close I’ll tell you.”

This stole the breath from your lungs. He seemed stupid. He seemed like he had no idea what he was doing. But this was a genius move. Because you did- even if it wouldn’t change anything, you did need to know. You needed to hear him tell you why. It was just that you weren’t mentally ready yet. But now he was making sure that even when you were- you wouldn’t be able to pull a trigger until he was ready, too.

“That’s why you’re here.” It had to be. He was ready for his own life to be over but too much of a coward to do it himself. That alone was why he wasn’t fit to be an agent anymore. He’d come seeking whatever little bit of redemption he’d get and then the immediate sweet release of death after. Even in relying on you for that, he was still holding the control. “It’s too bad you weren’t this decisive in Marrakech.”

His eyes came up again and this time the fog you thought you’d seen before was absent. In its place was striking fire. Determination. “I was.”

He’d made the decision not to save you, after all.  
Your eyes narrowed and you shared a heated angry stare. Fuck him. You’d be glad when the lights in his eyes shut off finally. So glad.

Until then.  
“I have to mock up some exams. You can pass or fail them I don’t really care.” You had to at least pretend like you were doing work.

“Does your therapist know how emotionally unstable you are?” Suddenly it was like an entirely different person was sitting across from you. Danny- was this Danny? The same guy from last night? The one who couldn’t pull a trigger? The one who had gotten taken down twice? The one who had pretended to care while you’d cried into your tea? Walked alone the entire night lost in his thoughts?

Who the fuck was this guy?

You sat back and rolled your shoulders. Had to look anywhere except at him. “You worried I’m gonna blow it? Don’t be. It’s clear I’ve gone far beyond-“

“Are you taking the pills?”

If he had wanted to pull his gun from its holster and shoot you in the head you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. If this was some carefully crafted maneuver to freeze you up, it was working. And if he’d had a mind to kill you in that moment, he might have been able to. Or at least get the upper hand. It felt like something had pierced your chest. You couldn’t breathe.

What was happening here? “Are you shadowing me?” Had he been- watching you the whole time? For how long? No. Impossible. You’d have known. You were good at catching tails. You were- you were a phenomenal agent. You’d been built that way for years.

“Are you taking them- yes or no.” He wouldn’t let go of that.

Maybe this was all a clever rouse by the agency. Maybe they were tired of you instead. There was just too much going on. Too much you hadn’t considered. Or looked at. Or had the mental capacity to deal with. And now you were realizing maybe that was all on purpose. Maybe he’d been sent here to get you to admit you were burnt out right before killing you instead. The one man that could do it.

“No.” You looked at him again, almost in sheer defiance. If he was going to tell them you were disobeying orders, then let him. You didn’t need the agency anymore. You’d come to grips with that when you’d been ready to end it yourself. Let them come after you, if that’s what he was trying to do.

In just a couple more seconds it was like a switch flicked and he was back. No longer Agent 407. Danny came back. His eyes squinted a little and he smiled down into his coffee. “Good.” Relieved?

Had you witnessed that switch before? The suddenness of it? In his eyes...

This couldn’t go on forever. He was exhausting. Your hands were shaking again. Being around him was too much. You swallowed a long sip of your coffee. You tightened your throat before speaking, afraid to let it shake. “We’ll run a trail exam.” Uptown. More people.

“Whatever you think is best.”

Could you end this by next month? Hopefully. You didn’t think you’d be able to take him for much longer than that. And once that was done, you could look forward to your own peaceful demise. Finally. A prayer for death that would finally be answered. So long as you could make it that far. Just had to keep your head up. One thing at a time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a much nicer time at the envelopesyou tumblr. If you need some support after this I'd TOTALLY understand.


	4. Chapter 4

_”I’m going to pretend like I don’t know you’re there until you actually tip me off.” Laying out a briefing for him on the diner table, as if this were a real mission. Trail tests were simple. See how long before an inexperienced agent inevitably fucked something crucial up, lost the target completely, or botched completion. “Your target is heading from this building,” Marking the office where you’d have to return to to drop off his residence request forms, “down several blocks,” lining the pen down the city streets, “and will be picked up in either of these three locations.” Circling three different alleyway exits. He was simply nodding along, eyes on the map but... not really present._

You couldn’t have expected much, and in fact, you weren’t. Once you dropped your sparse morning report off and walked out of the garage, you kept your head up and forward. Eyes everywhere they should be. With all faces. Shoulders squared back and neck straight so that the peripherals of your vision would span further. You had no idea where Danny would be taking from, but it probably wouldn’t be long until he did something that made you realize where he was watching from. Or following from.

Down one block without incident. Surprising enough. You still hadn’t actually chosen which alley to escape down- and you would, no doubt. He hadn’t said if he would purposefully fail this, but you were just going with the assumption that he would fail regardless. Your pace was gentle. If you had to suppose that you as an opposing agent had no intel that you were being followed, there was no reason to rush. Just had to meet these imaginary people at... exit A, you quickly decided, and disappear forever. You’d actually pulled this run hundreds of times before. Get into somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, grab some files, and walk calmly to your nearest extraction point.

Another block. Where was he?  
Hm. As usual he was surprising you. And that whole business back when you were in the middle of coffee.. what the hell had that been about? Don’t take the pills? You weren’t, anyway, but why would he specifically ask you not to? -or at the very least be pleased that you weren’t. Was it some reverse psychology nonsense? Who was he working for really? Himself or the agency? That was a very important distinction that you had yet to figure out. And the more you thought about it the more your mind drifted. Which was bad. You weren’t paying too much attention-

That was until a group of tourists at your eight twenty or so feet away complained and jostled about. Someone had run into them. There he was. You knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for very much longer. That was as much indication as you needed that someone was following you- or would be for this scenario, anyway. Just enough to raise one flag. That was all anyone ever needed. You picked up the pace and disappeared down one street and into the next, keeping yourself calm and steady. Didn’t want to draw too many eyes.

No one looked at you as you kept your eyes forward. Just someone with somewhere to be. Not that rare. Down another street, doubling back when you thought you’d lost him, and then you changed your mind. Extraction point B was closer- and it wasn’t really cheating, he didn’t know where you were heading regardless... even if it was a little closer. That meant the test ending earlier and him failing. Didn’t matter. He’d failed anyway. You’d seen him. So you hung to the wall and down the backstreet, met with a fenced off exit. Didn’t matter. None of this really mattered.

“You-“ Ready to tell him that he’d lost the game. If there had been someone there waiting for you, nothing in the world he could have done would stop it. But a heavy hand reached out to shove your shoulder into the chain-link- “It’s over!” Was he upset? Maybe he **had** been trying. “Da-“

“You killed my baby brother.” A voice that was certainly not Danny’s. Heavily accented. Familiarly, too. That cute tail you’d put down the other day.  
Shit.

You wouldn’t have enough purchase to knock him back and run up. That was why he had pinned you to something so feeble. A concrete wall would have been much nicer. Damn it all. “Maybe we still have him in holding.” In your effort to lose Danny you’d actually... lost Danny. You had no help. Stay calm. As if he’d have really been any help anyway.

You felt the barrel of a gun press into the mid of your spine, right before with his free hand he wrenched your left arm all the way up to the point of the bone creaking audibly. You held in any noise of discomfort. “I heard the shot over his radio.” He leaned in. Only one chance at this. “And I’m gonna-“

As hard as you could you pressed your face into the fence so that you’d have more room to slam it back into the bridge of his nose. When he startled back with a cry of pain and released you, you dropped to your knee so you could sweep a leg under his feet. Same move that disarmed his brother. Except he was a little more skilled, it seemed. He stumbled back but tucked into his side to stay stable.

His arm came up to aim, other and preoccupied with the gushing blood from his nose, and a shot rang out. You weren’t sure where it went. Your only goal was to get him down. So you launched back up even in the face of his crosshairs- if he shot again-  
No time.  
But he did.

You took his wrist with a hard spin, dislodging the gun. When it fell you kicked it as hard as you could away; focused on getting him on his back. But he recoiled forward with surprising strength. Resilient. Too bad he hadn’t been able to teach that punk brother of his how to be a real agent.

With one hard rock of his own heels he shoved you back into the wall. When your head collided with the brick your vision flickered. Fucking-  
The shadows jumped to life. You tried to keep your hands moving, tried to reach for his face to get another shot at the bridge of his nose but he subdued your movements quicker than you’d expected. You couldn’t see through the dark fog. Fucking Marrakech. Fucking Danny-

Suddenly he was gone and you were left staggering forward in the wake. Didn’t matter why. You put your hand to the back of your head, pressing carefully. The other going to your eyes. You heard a struggle around you and when everything came back you saw Danny standing over him, gun aimed.

“Tell me you’re going to take the shot.” Breathless as you admonished him for basically saving your life.

His eyes went to yours and instead he put his hand up to his earpiece. “West sixty-seventh. We need a pickup.”

You just shook your head. “Consider your test failed.” All of them. Still couldn’t- no. He was refusing. This was adamant refusal. Blatant. Disobeying you with those stormy eyes of his. Without warning your feet took you a few paces right back into the wall and the burn of an open wound came back to your notice.

God damn it all.  
He must have hit you. Your hand went to your side where warm blood was pumping steadily out. Just a graze. “Hey-“ His expression changed again, looking after you with concern.

As the adrenaline faded with the situation taken care of the pain flared. You pressed your hand hard over the gash. “Just shut it and wait for your _pick up._ ” As scathing as you could make it before you pulled your jacket a little harder over your frame to hopefully cover your accident up. Calmly as you could manage you walked away from him and down the street.

You had to get home and take care of this yourself. No physician. No reports. Not about that, anyway. Danny could write his own. If they knew you’d floundered hard enough to get shot and have to actually have backup, that could be the end. But by the time you got to your apartment, climbed up all the steps, and got inside, you felt tired. Your hands were shaking. A stitch job was going to be very hard.

The medicine cabinet was ripped open and a multitude of pill bottles clattered to the floor as you knocked everything aside to get what you needed. Sewing kit. Bandages. Rubbing alcohol. You’d done thousands of these before. Just needed... to keep it together.

A dull throb made itself known in your head as you eased back- not into a wall but into- “Get out of my apartment.” Danny had followed you home, somehow. Had you been that slow? You were really losing your touch.

“No.” Defiant, as usual. He took your ingredients out of your hands and very easily lifted you up onto the counter. There wasn’t enough in you to struggle. You’d pay him back later with blunt force trauma to the head. His hands were weirdly careful as he lifted your shirt up off your frame after your jacket fell back.

His hands went back through his hair to push it out of his eyes. Then he uncapped the alcohol and poured it over his hands before opening the kit. Taking to his knee he poured more of the solution over the wound and you couldn’t help the tight inhale. It stung like a bitch. But you ground your teeth together to keep quiet otherwise. You’d been through so much worse than this.

Proof of it all out in the open for him to see. Your body a veritable canvas of fuck ups- some of which were entirely all on him. Maybe one day you’d point out each one that should be sitting on his shoulders instead of yours. The needle pierced your skin and your eyes rolled back hard. “What’s wrong with your vision?” If he was trying to keep you talking to save you from passing out that was the absolute worst subject to dwell on.

But you were just the slightest bit surprised that he noticed. To talk about it? Well. Given the opportunity. “You know that decking screw they drilled into the back of my brain?” You’d only referenced it once- and not entirely said it had had anything to do with you. The high pitched whirring screamed in your ears as you thought about it. “Picked apart some of the optics. Botched job.” As if a clean screw being pushed through the back of anyone’s skull could be considered a success.

You hadn’t died, you supposed. So that was as much success as anyone could hope for. But you hadn’t talked, either. So in that way they’d failed. This had all been his fault too, the only reason you felt like you should even be talking about it.

His fingers brushed with every sweep of the needle as he pulled your skin closed. More alcohol was poured over after and then he busied himself wrapping your midsection. Careful. He was so careful. You’d never had anyone look after you this way- not since... Casey.  
After you’d been pulled out of prison you’d been on your own. At least you’d pretended so. No agents they’d ever assigned to you were ever worth their salt. They were never as good. And you didn’t need them. You’d been patching up your own mistakes for years and years.

It was...  
When he looked up from his spot on the floor you met his gentle gaze. And for just a moment.  
A small moment in time. You imagined a life where you didn’t hate him. A life where...

And then you remembered you’d just been shot. You pushed him away with your knee before sliding down off the counter, a little wobbly so. Blood loss. That’s all it was. And dying adrenaline. The need for reassurance. No matter how hard you’d been reshaped, the human existence would always plague you. Your hand came down on the counter to steady yourself and he stood again.

Logically you knew you needed to get some sugar into your system and probably sleep this off but that was impossible with him there. “What do you want from me?” The way he was staring made it seem like he had quite an agenda in mind.

“To make sure you’re alright.”

Your scoff at this put off how genuine it might have actually sounded coming out of his mouth. You grabbed your shirt and pulled it back on before moving away to settle on the couch with a hard drop. “I’ve been shot _many_ times before.” This was child’s play compared to some of the scarier accidents you’d found yourself in.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He walked in after you and propped himself up against the wall, arms folding under his chest.

You laid your head against the back of the cushion, eyes closing. Dangerous. Sleep would take you if you weren’t careful. You’d wished you’d devoted more effort to it last night but that was neither here nor there, now. Too many things working against you. As usual. “You’re here to clean up, right? That’s what this is.”

Whether or not he was cleaning up his mess or cleaning up for the agency... you’d figure it out eventually. “Yes.” The answer was so simple it was absolutely infuriating. You already knew that. But then why ask? Maybe just to confirm.

“Do you feel bad about what happened in Marrakech?”

The only solace in this situation was that you were far too tired to cry. Which was good. You’d already done enough of that in front of him.

“Yes.” His answer was subdued. Quiet. Thoughtful. You could feel him staring at you even with your eyes closed. But you thought this answered the other question. If he felt bad that meant he was cleaning up after himself. Maybe. Or maybe he was still just full of bullshit and trying to throw you. Always a very easy possibility.

“Why?” So you dared to ask this. As much of a failure as he was, he was still far beyond your comprehension just yet. In that, he was a good agent. A good mystery. Couldn’t tell everything about him from first glance.

The silence between you asking and him answering wasn’t as long as you thought it would be. “I let them take you.”

Guilt. He was guilty. He felt guilty. You could hear it. But there was something else there, too. What was it- the ... the-

Warm breeze and smell of heavy market incense took your awareness away.  
There you were.  
Eighteen years old again. Just minutes before destruction.

Danny.  
His name was Danny. Agent 407. He’d let them take you. He felt bad about it. He was there to clean up.

Tortured fits of nightmares were ceaseless and no matter how hard he tried to shake you out of each one, you fell unconsciously back and unaware of his attempts. It went on for hours. Day melted into night and night into early morning by the time you came back.

There was just enough light to see him. Sitting on the floor, one leg out stretched, the other bent at the knee. His arm up over it, head half forward, hair sliding down over his closed eyes. He’d fallen asleep looking after you.

Fuck him.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Day  Four** _   
_**Progress still continues to be an uphill battle. 407 failed the trail test. The ambush had little no dealings on said failure. Still no projected date of completion.** _

It didn't really matter what it said. What you said. None of it meant anything. Just biding time. That's all it was. All you had to keep reminding yourself of. Yet there you were almost wanting to say something different. None of it mattered. Focus on that. 

A little easier said than done as he sat opposite in the same place. Same booth. You dreaded to think that this was what routine felt like- and with him? Before you even realized what you were doing you shook your head. He was watching. As always, even as he hid behind a raise of his coffee cup. The sun was barely up yet, not that it mattered. You hadn't slept in what felt like-... well. Since you caught him dozing on your floor. The last time he slept? Who even knew. Who even cared. And his apartment still wasn't fixed up. Where he was staying- the office, you thought. But maybe you were wrong. 

Your side still burned. As all good wounds should have. As all failures should have. Reminders. 

"Will you stop staring at me?" Your nerves were frayed. Didn't matter if he knew he was the one that was causing it. Made very little difference either way. 

His eyes dropped almost immediately before he leaned back and looked out the window. "Do the doctors know about your eyesight?" 

He was always doing this. Drilling you in the morning. Asking you things he had no right to ask. Answers that didn't belong to him. "What kind of stupid question is that?" Of course they knew. That weakness was one almost everyone who had access to your file knew. They had to. Because it could very well have easily caused messy situations to become even messier. But that, just like everything else, you worked alongside. Proving you were more than just an injury.

Or time in torture camp. You were, in fact, so much more than that. 

Your own order of food- what was it now, you couldn't even recall, sat on the edge of the table. You couldn't even find it in you to eat. This situation needed to be solved. A "projected date of completion" needed to be estimated. Not just for them. For you. The longer he was around-... 

He was staring again. You met his eyes squarely. He looked tired. He always looked tired. "The other day," You said carefully, watching him like you would an enemy in interrogation, "you got your streets pretty well despite only being here for a few days." You didn't really need him to tell you what you knew the answer was. 

But he nodded anyway. "My first base was here." As you suspected. He knew this city. Which made it that much worse that he had actually failed a trail test in a city that he grew his agent skills in. He should have known it like the back of his hand. Should have known how to close your opportunities to escape off. Yet he'd actually lost you and let you get- 

No.  
Absolutely not.  
He wasn't your partner. He hadn't _let_ you do anything. That fuck up was your own. And he... "Me too." You said absently. It was the same city you'd departed from right before disappearing. All thanks to him. At that time you remembered the apartment complex you and Casey had lived in. Across the hall from each other. 

How you missed him. 

"I wonder if I ever saw you around." This was said far too well to be something absent. He was never really absent. You knew that. Even when he pretended. When he looked far gone. Which was almost always. He was thinking. Replaying all the memories he had of this city and the new agents in training. Walking around the campus. Taking tests. Getting hurt. 

You could actually see it. The gears turning. He was trying to remember. Pointless. It was all pointless. 

"What if you did? Would that change anything?" Of course it wouldn't. It wouldn't change a god damn thing. Why was he wasting so much time on something so useless? 

But when he leveled that tired gaze your way again you saw something else. Something that frightened you. Just a little. That rare resolve of a real agent that he sometimes carried. Was that it? The machine fighting the man? Or the other way around now, you supposed. "No." His answer was flat and almost the exact definition of anticlimactic. And then, "Do you remember anything?" 

This sounded like one of those trick questions. Trying to turn the interrogation on its head. Get a target to reveal something they might not have wanted to. But what could he possibly be digging for? What if you did? You didn't think you did, but what if you did? That didn't change things. It didn't fix or undo what had happened. Nothing would. So why- 

Your side hurt. Fresh hot pain. Almost like the wound had opened. Instinctively you pressed your hand to it. And then even more instinctively the same hand raised to the back of your head. But if you really wanted to sit there and touch every folly you'd ever made you'd be there for hours. The pain was keeping you steady. Maybe it was just a touch psychosomatic. Keeping you from... 

You remembered him. But not on base. Not on campus. Not going by a window while you were studying. You remembered him aiming his gun. Gritting his teeth. Remembered as you watched his resolve just evaporate. Remembered how he refused. And that was enough remembering. If this had been the first time again, even though this was all happening so fast- you might have vomited that at him. Just in pure anger. Yet somehow four days into "recalibration" and a couple more beyond the meeting period you just. Couldn't. 

Instead you let it fester which, of course, was healthier. But you just didn't think you could make him... the way he reacted when you said those things- which he should. He should feel bad. He ruined your life. Took everything away. He should feel terrible. But you just couldn't. 

"No." You forced out. Hard and angry. He was making you angry. He always made you angry. Why should you feel sorry for him? 

-because he felt sorry. You saw it in his eyes when you said nasty things. It was what prevented you from saying as much now. And that was the moment you realized this needed to end sooner than later. 

"Are you sure?" There was a desperate hinge in this that made your side flare again. He was still digging. Did he remember something? Before the market and the helicopter and the- 

"Why?" You knew a straightforward answer was simply not going to come out of him but you couldn't make it make sense in your head. Why was he doing this? What was he looking for? Looking to get out of you? What? What was it?   
And why did it make you feel so desperate? If he remembered something you didn't it wouldn't matter, right? So why- 

The lights shut off in his eyes and his gaze dropped. Just like that. It was over. Somehow, impossibly so, you felt even angrier. Why was he dragging you like this? "Never mind." What was he trying to accomplish? Why was he doing this? And this- of all things- was incredibly sloppy. Whatever he had been fishing for, the second he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted he just... backed out?

Oh.   
_Oh._  
Well didn't that just fit his MO? 

Your hands laid flat on the table, not quick enough to be considered a slam but hard enough to actually get him to jump. Where had he rushed off to in that head of his so fast? "What do you want from me?" He was here to clean up. That much he'd made known. He felt bad. That much he'd said. But what on god's green earth did he **want**? Better yet- "Why are you doing this?" 

Why had he willingly signed himself into this? Not just a clean up job. Couldn't be. Not anymore. You suspected something else but you just didn't know what it was. 

"I'm-" This was half-hearted and definitely sounded like he was about to refuse the notion that he was doing anything. But he was smarter, for once. He backed out of that rebuttal and turned his head away, shrinking in his side of the booth like a child scolded. You refused to feel bad. Not this time. "I don't know." 

Incredible. Absolutely fucking incredible. "Great." You found yourself slumping back too. What was the point. Of any of this. Of getting angry. Of trying to make him talk. Clearly he didn't want to. Whatever was going on in his head, whatever plans he had, whatever he wanted you to-

"You should eat something." His voice was very gentle. You looked up, and for once he wasn't staring at you. Instead he was focused on- your hands? You followed his gaze and until looking at your balled up fists hadn't realized how hard you'd been holding yourself. You took a breath, forcing your fingers to uncurl. "...you should probably get some sleep, too." 

Why was he doing this?  
Why was he pretending to look after you? To care? 

The answer- or at least the build, you already knew. This wasn't pretend.   
And you couldn't deal with that fact. You didn't want him to care. Didn't want him to- 

You pressed your hands together, feeling a tremble coming on.   
He had no right.  
No right... 

His voice filtered in past your barriers but you were so wound up you didn't hear what he'd said. It sounded... "What?" Your head jerked up. The soft tone he'd used echoed. You forced it to. Tried to unpick the static. What had-... what had he just- 

"Viri." This was a-

_A correction._

He was restating. Fixing.   
Had he just... said your name? Your real name?   
No.  
Couldn't... he couldn't have.. 

You stared straight across the table. He stared back. Unrelenting. Challenging you to call him on it. Maybe he'd actually answer you this time. And if he didn't, what was the harm? But you- ... 

Your eyes dropped. "I have a cover test scheduled." You'd have to go back to the office- the base. Get into the underground. 

"You're not gonna be able to keep a sight steady in your condition." It was hard to tell if he was picking on your eyesight or the lack of sleep or food. Any- all were bad options. Like he was your commanding officer ready to put you on desk duty because you were too much of a liability. 

But when you looked up again he was smiling. And you knew then that he wasn't picking on you. He was teasing.   
Familiarity and a sense of- 

"Let's go." It didn't matter that he obviously knew he was the one who had to hold a gun. You were testing him, not you. He knew that. Why was he...

Didn't matter. None of it mattered. He mattered least of all. You pushed away from the table, sliding out of the booth and standing on shaky legs. "Let's go." Repeated, harder. He jumped to attention then. No more gentleness. No more friendliness. Just as it should be. 

"After you."   
Damn him.   
God damn him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the EnvelopesYou tumblr for more junk and stuff!


	6. Chapter 6

The Underground was America’s greatest waste of tax payer money. Basically a billion-dollar laser tag course, with only a few more stakes to claim. One of the only reasons you had switched back to the city that promised nothing but torturous memories of your earliest days was simply because its Underground was the biggest out of all the bases your company owned. Nestled deep underneath the office, and under most of the actual city itself was an entirely different city. Ridiculous and stupid but it was good for training for a lot of reasons. Cover tests were one.

You rallied up a few interns to play their parts, they couldn’t say no to a higher authority like you. And then got Thresh and a few others for the actual sharpshooters. The point of a cover test was to set Danny up in a high building so he could, as the name implied, cover you. The setting was pretend-dangerous enemy territory. And he had to see you through. Gun people down from buildings and windows and even on the street. As quietly as possible while hiding his own whereabouts, so moving from window to window around if he had to. And as quickly as possible. The scenario was a pretend rescue. Tie up an intern and have someone else throw him into the lobby of one of the buildings and only give you the roughest approximation of coordinates.

Not only a test for your idiot not-partner, but for you as well. Not that your skills were rusted in any sort of sense. The guns everyone equipped themselves with fired very precise EMPs which would charge the vests and give the person wearing them a shock. Meaning when someone got hit they’d feel it. Which was the whole point. No lighting up or loud noises. That would give away position and pull people out of character. Out of the scenario. But it was still very much laser tag to the extreme.

Mapping out the section of the city you’d use, you watched Danny pull on his vest out of the corner of your eye. Always watching him. The only thing that made sense anymore. Watching for what he’d do. Listening to everything he said. He was holding back. Had so many things he wanted to say and yet seemed like he either couldn’t or just wanted to fuck with you until the end of time. Or his time. Whichever came first.

“Here. We’ll do south sector. Five mile radius. Pick your building. Tie one of them up. Fifteen minutes.” Speaking to your opposing team as they were already suited up.

Thresh signaled them to go and then came over, looking beyond your shoulder to Danny’s whose back was turned. “You gonna be okay?” If Danny could see that you weren’t feeling right, Thresh could see it all. Though he wasn’t your partner, you’d specifically denied any and all requests after Casey’s death, he was the closest thing to one you’d ever had since.

You pulled back the cartridge on your gun. Not that you were loading it or charging it in any sense, but the natural order of things dictated your movements when you were this low on energy. “Yeah.” The only thing you could say. The only thing worth saying.

He tipped his head down, looking at you over the rim of his glasses, brown eyes filled with nervousness. “I dunno, Viri. Usually you can take at least five.” Shots, he meant. Getting shocked to shit wasn’t fun but you could withstand a lot. On a good day. Which was his point. “I feel like you get one now and it’s over.” The simulation, he probably meant. One shock couldn’t possibly kill you. Not even how you were now.

But there was something else in this. Something that made you smile as you turned to him fully, leaving the map where it was. “Worried he won’t do well?” Thresh probably had read up on him. That file you’d walked away from the first day not knowing who you’d been dealing with. And he knew well of your sordid past with him.

His grinned in that soft yet wry way of his with a little clipped laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

Reaching up in one of the gentlest displays you could manage you patted the side of his face. “Don’t go easy on me just because of that.”

The ruffling of Danny fitting his vest on tightly behind you stopped. He was watching. Thresh just continued on smiling. “Never in a million years.” You could always count on him to bring his game. To do what you asked. You never made it a point to trust anyone after all had been said and done. But... if there was anyone worth trusting- it was him. He cocked his gun, same as you. No rhyme or reason, just because he could. “See you out there.”

You pointed a finger at him as he walked away. “Not if I see you first.” Which meant exactly how it sounded. If you got him in your sights, before Danny even could, you’d take him out. That was just how the test was meant to be. No hard feelings.

He departed out the door and down into the city. You pulled a few of your straps tighter. The looser the vest to your chest, the less the pain would be. But getting shot in real life wasn’t a game. And a simulation couldn’t be played like one either. “Does he flirt with you a lot?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, from Danny, of course.

As usual, an interesting development. Why did he care? You ignored it, instead finishing your fitting before leaning back over the map. “Station here.” Pointing at one of the tall buildings in the southwest quarter. A good vantage point. Technically he should have been setting it up, picking which one was the best. But you couldn’t leave that to him.

He leaned over. His hand brushed yours briefly as he picked somewhere else and motioned to show you why. “Here’s better. This building will block my view if you get caught a couple blocks up the other way.” His voice was soft and full of consideration. God damn him.

Being stubborn and telling him to go where you had said would be childish. And even though you weren’t really testing him, this big charade you were still playing, not getting shot would be very nice. “Fine. So go there.” Although this clipped answer was probably just as petulant.

He moved away, thankfully, over to the other table to inspect his sniper. Clearing the scope. He’d have to lug it out and up to the tallest window in the building he’d picked but that was his problem. “How come he’s not your partner? You two seem to get along very well.” He was gauging you again, but for what reason you had no idea.

If he really was here to clean up the supposed mess that had been made years ago, that meant he was digging for information. Digging to see exactly who he could exploit. Build reports on. Thresh had never done anything wrong. And he’d always done right by you. Ever since you’d first met. In the mood you were in, there was nothing save bitterness when you answered. “My one and only real partner died. And I haven’t needed one after that.” The agency had stuck you with people but they weren’t _real_ partners. The notation was very important.

Thresh was a good guy. He’d probably be worth way more to you as a partner. He’d always have your back. He was always on your team. Always looking out for you. But... you just couldn’t. The noise on his side of the office stopped. “How did Casey die, again?”

Your blood ran cold. This endless tirade was more than just asking questions. You were sure of it. More than just mining for information. “He was killed trying to get me out of the prison I went to after you couldn’t keep it together.” You forced your tone straight and hard.

“You saw him die?”

Nothing. You refused to say anything to this. To dignify it with a response. It was none of his business. And if he wanted to look on the report he could- probably had. He was just torturing you.

He hefted his gun up. “Viri if he died, how did you get out? If he got killed in the line of duty wouldn’t they have taken you back when your cover went down?” Why?  
Why why why?

“I was out.” He wasn’t going to stop until he got an answer. Your hand pressed to your eyes, vision doubling a little under the strain of your stress. Memories you just couldn’t forget. “He _was_ covering me. From behind. That’s how he died. And that’s why I made it out. And he didn’t.” Gunned down making sure you were already gone. Covering your back like a good agent would. A good partner would. Because that’s what he was.

“You saw a body?”

There was a rule in the world of the agency. In the spy business. If you never saw a body, don’t ever trust that someone died. Fingers- prints. Teeth and dental. None of it mattered. Everything could be faked. But a body was clear. A body was proof.

And Casey’s body...

You put your earpiece in, ignoring him again. The only thing you could do just to keep it together. “Channel three-delta. If you hear them jump onto it switch to five-gamma. And if it happens a third to one-beta.” Always had to have back-ups for your back-ups. Thresh was a good agent. He’d find your line at least once. And if an opposing team got on to your channel they’d know where you were.

A cover test required a lot of talking. To know where to go next. Where your enemies were hiding. Where to keep your shoulders squared to. Just like Marrakech all over again.

“Don’t blow it this time.” There were no helicopters to take you into the sky. No people to really grab and make off with you. No crowd to alert when he bumbled through, and hopefully he wouldn’t move from his building, anyway. It was just something worth saying. Worth reminding him of.

“Yes, ma’am.” Straightforward as he hiked his gun up over his shoulder and left out the door.

Your hands spread out along the map, leaning in over the table. Taking a few deep breaths. Steady. There was no way you were getting out of this without getting stung at least once. But you could handle that. Thresh had been right. You weren’t making it to five. Three might put you out cold. Might find you waking up in the agency’s hospital. Couldn’t have that. And you couldn’t trust him to really cover you. This whole test was a waste of time.

Just passing the hours, the days, until you could find it within yourself to put him out of his misery. Whenever that day would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come stop by the EnvelopesYou tumblr for more stuff and things! Hang out!


	7. Chapter 7

The city gave nothing. Empty with shadows roaming the streets. Specters that didn’t belong. Weren’t real. Just served as points of visualization. They could blow your whole trek if they caught you, if you tilted their AI suspicious. They’d give your position away. Not that Thresh would need you to mess up there.

“I’m here.” You heard Danny’s sniper creak over the radio and you pressed your hand to your ear, hidden back behind a building. Trying to figure out your best avenue. He could see you, the only reason he would say something like that. Pointless otherwise. You didn’t feel like saying anything back, so you didn’t. Instead you put your focus on surveying your surroundings. Figuring out where the open path was. Trying to make sure the other interns weren’t trying to blend in with the fake people moving around.

When you were sure you could get from one point to the next you moved. Quick and silent. Tripping no alarms. Alerting no one. You could almost feel Danny’s eyes on your back- or was that his scope? Not that it would leave a mark, that would be absolutely stupid. But you knew he was watching. As he should be. Whatever partner he was pretending to be.

Where was Thresh, though? What building was he hiding in? Stay calm.. stay collected... you’d find him eventually...

Turning an alley from the opposite corner you thrust one of the interns waiting for you at the other mouth of the street up against the wall. “Sorry, kid.” You pressed your gun to the back of his vest, giving him one charge. “Stay down, won’t you?” If they felt like they could get up it was fair game. Last man standing wins.

But with the way he convulsed, the muffled noise against your other hand, you knew he couldn’t even handle the one shot. You didn’t have the time to feel sorry for him. Instead you ripped his com out of his ear and shoved it into your pocket. Then you pressed your hand to your ear to activate the mic on yours. “One mark down.”

“I saw.” There was amusement crackling over the radio. You didn’t much care for it. Didn’t care if he was impressed or whatever it was he was trying to get across to you. You could have said something else, maybe you were thinking about it-

But there was just the gentlest little shift in the air across the waves. Had you been talking you would have missed it. “Move channels now.” You pulled the piece out of your ear to wheel the dial to the second choice. Thresh was trying to close in on you.

Down one street, ducking behind a dumpster, waiting for clearance, and then into another alley. Something had changed. He had a couple more kids on his team and you couldn’t seem to locate them. Dangerous. Too dangerous. Waiting for a moment you crouched low behind a couple of trash cans, pressing your hand to your eyes. Couple more hours of this.. you just had to keep it together. “Viri?” Danny, who still somehow had eyes on you, sounded nervous.

“Shut-” A pair of hands grabbed you from behind and tried to pull the same maneuver you had with the other agent moments ago. No doubt Thresh was telling them to try and give you a taste of your own medicine. But instead of letting yourself get caught you pressed your feet up against the wall and sprung back, taking all your weight onto the kid behind you. She stumbled back with a yelp and the second you could you twisted around and pressed your gun to the front of her vest right over her heart. “Nice try, kid.”

Two down. Too easy. They weren’t good. Nowhere near good. Not the point... not the point.. If she’d just been expecting you to stand there against the wall and take the shot she’d really been stupid. But she was unconscious now. So you moved. Down more streets. Through more alleys. Where was Thresh? Where was he hiding?

“I’m losing you.” Danny’s voice came in again, nervous. “I’m sorta- I sorta have eyes but you’re moving too wide out-”

“That’s why I told you to stay where I told you to stay.” But no. He had wanted to go somewhere else. While calmly and quietly chastising him you saw the barrel of a gun sitting out a window on the far west corner.

Thresh.

Foolish mistake.

“Watch me or don’t. We’re almost done here.” You moved around the back of his building and quickly climbed your way up. Right before the top floor his last kid tried to ambush you. They were waiting. No good. You quickly put him out of his misery and left him on the bottom of the stairwell. Thresh would be waiting.

“Viri I don’t have eyes-” Danny really sounded scared. As if this was real. As if any of it mattered.

You double pressed the piece in your ear to keep the microphone activated, knowing you would be needing both hands very soon. “I’m in a building you idiot- on the-” The window of the next floor shattered and with in came Thresh, crashing in a roll, taking to his knees, and leveling his gun at you.

One shot.  
Right through your heart. You felt it. Falling back against the wall with electric waves rocking through your body. Everything almost gave out. That bastard. You hadn’t expected him to do something that stupid. What would have happened if he’d fallen down the side of the building?

Then again... maybe he’d lured you up there on purpose. ...probably.. god were you losing your touch so much?

When he leveled another shot your way you let your knees buckle and then rolled out of the line of fire, behind a desk that you promptly kicked over. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t shooting real bullets, but built up instincts were too hard to cut through. He may as well have been shooting to kill.

“Viri what is your location god damn it!?” Danny could tell you were being attacked. Could hear it all no doubt.

But you didn’t have enough time to answer. “I’m sorry your cover can’t keep up.” Thresh was on your channel. Of course he was.

“Wasn’t expecting much out of him.” You said, laughing dryly as you pressed at your eyes. Just stay sharp. A few more minutes stay sharp. If you could put Thresh down the exercise was over. Danny had failed anyway. He’d lost sight of you and because of that you were in danger. Blown. No good. He was just no good.

“Me either. But. You know.” His voice trailed around the back of the room as he circled. “Sad you have to put yourself through paces because he’s a terrible agent.” The fact that Danny could hear all of this over the coms made no difference to you.

You just laughed again. Pain lacing the sound. Stay awake... “Yeah, well-” Quickly you shifted around the side of the desk where the sound of his voice was leading and took aim- fired at- nothing.

And then too soon before you had a chance to even contemplate that he’d been throwing his voice, he took you by your hair, throwing you back against the wall. Then he pressed the barrel of his gun straight against your chest. His dark eyes leveled on yours. “Tell me the game is over.” He didn’t want to hurt you. Not if he didn’t have to. And you were cornered anyway.

Instead you just smiled at him. “Not in a million years.”

A flicker of pain crossed his gaze as his lips thinned. If you wouldn’t give up he’d have to make you. Even if he really didn’t want to. But arguing with you was like arguing with a brick wall. Stupid, pointless, and time consuming. “Stubborn to the end.” Before you could say something smart back to this he let go of another charge. This one straight against you. The vest constricted. Threw pain everywhere. You weren’t sure you were going to be able to hang on.

Instead you sagged against him, and he held you up. “Viri, come on.” He murmured to you, keeping you afloat. Unless you passed out he had to keep going- until you said stop, anyway. Fat chance of that. Shakily you raised your gun but his free hand took your wrist, jamming it back against the wall hard enough to get your weapon out of your hand and to the floor. “Tell me it’s over.”

You looked up at him, pain and days without sleep making you delirious. “Give me more, Thresh. We’re not done.” Laughing lightly.

Despite himself, despite you, he smiled. “You’re incorrigible.” In a low tone as his nose brushed yours, forehead pressing against yours. Then the click of his weapon hit the air and another shock wave pulsed through you. He watched, eyes open, as you let go of a noise of pain. As you scrabbled for purchase anywhere. Anything to hold on tight enough to make it stop.

Your hand landed on his shoulder. “That- is that it?” Losing yourself. Your knees were seconds from buckling. You could take a beating. You’d taken so many before this. With real bullets. Real knives. Real everything.

“Stay with me for one more, Viri. Can you do that?” Grinning in fond admiration at your courage. Your strength.  Resounding.

You nodded. “Give it to me, Thresh.” Drawing him in with a slide of your hand up his neck. His eyelids fluttered before lowering halfway. “Be a good boy for me, won’t you?” Mirroring his grin.

“God Viri-”

With those last two words, drawn in so completely by you, he must have thought it really was over. That was until he was shot through the window by your supposed cover, sending him barreling to the back of the room. Sniper fire was much harder than handgun. Even in tests with amped up stun guns.

“I’ve got eyes.” Dan’s voice had run cold.

You sagged against the wall without Thresh to keep you stable, lucky you hadn’t just fallen on your face the second he’d been ripped away from you. “I can see that.” Somehow he’d relocated. Went from one building to another while Thresh had been busy tearing you to pieces. You stumbled away, holding yourself as tall as you could manage. The black was crawling in around the edges of your vision. Slowly you ambled over to his body, reached for your second holster, and pulled the gun out to level it at him.

He looked up at you, smiling. “Looks like you win again.” Voice soft as he begged you for that last shot. “At least he did something.”

Danny had to have booked it from one building to another as fast as he could have, carrying that heavy gun. Somewhere expertly picking so that he would have been able to get that exact shot through the window. “Yeah.” Said as you pulled the trigger, sending him jerking in a twist of pain before everything faded from him.

You dropped your gun beside him and walked slowly downstairs. Each one harder than the last. Fell down a good deal of them. Picked yourself up. Continued on. You had to make it out of the building. Back to the-

Back to the-

As your knees crumbled underneath you you felt the floor an imminent approaching force. At least you should have. Instead you found yourself scooped up. Thresh? Had he gotten up already? Come after you? That idiot...

-no...

“Put me down.” Through the little cracks in your vision you saw that wild hair.

“Don’t be an idiot.” He was using that tone. That same tone. His serious tone, you’d decided. When he switched into being a real agent. The one that would have saved you that day.

Why hadn’t he been there then? This man- This-

“That was a decent shot.” Decent considering anyone else but you would have succumb to getting shot multiple times. You held out long enough for Danny to get somewhere else and level his gun. It wasn’t good enough. Out in the field you would have been dead.

And just like that, Agent 407 had vanished. Danny was back. Smiling softly. “Thanks.” As if your praise meant something to him. It shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have cared.

 _You_ shouldn’t have cared.

“I can walk.” You didn’t want to be in his arms. Didn’t want him to be carrying you through the city. Didn’t want him to walk you to the doctor’s office. Or home. Or anywhere. You wanted to be away from him.

“I’m sure you can.” In a tone that was warm and believing instead of sarcastic and dry. Saying he knew you could get on your feet and push through. But, “Just let me take you to the elevator. Least I can do after letting you get banged up like that.” Because, decent shot as it may have been, he hadn’t made it quick enough. Hadn’t changed locations quick enough after losing visuals on you the first time.

You weren’t sure how to respond to this. It was his fault. But... “It was my fault. Should’a known- should-...” The words wouldn’t come out. You wanted to blame yourself because blaming yourself was easier, sometimes. Knowing you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself. Not him. _Certainly_ not him.

“It’s okay, Viri.”

It wasn’t.  
Hadn’t been for years.  
...but his warm voice nearly convinced you. Made you want to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out at the envelpesyou tumblr for a great time!


End file.
